approval of our _cordon bleu_ in no measured terms.

"You've noted," he said, "that a greaser jest naterally hates ter
handle mares. He rides a horse, an' he's right. The best o' mares will
kick. Now, Glory Anne can't help bein' a woman, but I swear she's bin
mighty well broke. She works right up into the collar--quiet an'
steady, an' keeps her tongue, whar it belongs, shet up in her mouth.
I've seen a sight o' wimmen I thot less of than Glory Anne."

I repeated these words to Ajax. He admitted their significance, in
connection with bonnets and furbelows, and we both went to bed with a
sound of marriage-bells in our ears. We slept soundly, convinced that
neither Gloriana nor Uncle Jake would leave our service, and at
breakfast the next morning discoursed at length upon the subject of
wedding presents.

"What would you suggest, Gloriana," said Ajax, "as suitable for a
middle-aged bridegroom?"

She considered the question thoughtfully, a delightful smile upon her
lips.

"Ther's nothin' more interestin' than marryin', excep' mebbee the
courtin'," she replied softly, "an' a gift is, so ter speak, a message
o' love an' tenderness from one human heart t' another. With poor
folks, who ain't experts in the use o' words, a gift means more 'n
tongue kin tell. I'm sot myself on makin' things. Every stitch I put
into a piece o' fancy work fer--a friend makes me feel the happier.
Sech sewin' is a reel labour o' love, an' I kinder hate ter hurry over
it, because, as I was sayin', it means so much that I'd like ter say,